Monday, August 31

After work, we drift over from the shop to 3’s and order Bud in
bottles. There’re sports on the TV. We talk shit about football, baseball,
and programming. We are knowledgeable of, perhaps, one of these subjects. I
lament init systems. We sing the endless song of hate for XML. We agree that
CSV isn’t so bad as all that. We have a second beer.

It has recently rained, and by early evening it’ll turn towards gray and cool.
Driving home with the sun going down all blue-white behind the clouds and
Long’s Peak, I cycle between suddenly-terrible local radio and the bad
reception on my CB.

People are yelling idiotically at each on channel 6, like usual, but this time
I can’t make out any of it at all. The other day I listened to some guys talk
for an hour on 18 about buying a house, in near perfect clarity but interlaced
with bursts of fuzzed out Spanish where I could never quite tell if they were
part of the same conversation or just cross-talk.

“That fuckin' driveway an' shit, you know?”

Some days are good for CB reception, at least relatively. You’ll get stuff
bouncing in from all over. Or maybe it’s just some days there are more people
on the radio. I think about installing better hardware. I wonder if that
would make any difference with the reception. I think about owning a
house.